


Of Savagery And Eloquence

by UninspiredPoet



Series: Lacrymosa [6]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Comfort, Coping, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, LITERALLY, Lesbian Sex, Magic, Magic Fingers, Memories, Soft Lesbian Wives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-13 11:28:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18940021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UninspiredPoet/pseuds/UninspiredPoet
Summary: “Do you ever miss anything else?” Sylvanas’s tone was soft with the faintest edge to it - one Jaina had come to know well by now.Jaina trailed her fingertips along Sylvanas’s jaw, then, and down along the sides of her neck towards her chest. “Feeling useful?” She asked in a whisper. “Feeling...feeling like I had some sort of say-so in the world and its workings? Of course. I’m no saint, Sylvanas.”“And what do you do, then? When you feel yourself wasting away - when you realize you’ve forgotten what the power felt like in your own hands?”((Disclaimer: My not-for-profit transformative work is only published by me on Archive of Our Own. I do not give my consent or authorization for it to be reproduced or displayed on any third-party websites or apps.))





	Of Savagery And Eloquence

  
[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/161614435@N03/31672244908/in/datetaken/)  


“Are you going to survive?” Jaina’s voice was soft in a way that made Sylvanas’s ears shift back in the direction it had come from. The former General’s grey-blue eyes turned slowly from the doorway to rest on her wife as she began to pull herself out of the daze she’d been in for most of the day.

“I’m sorry, Jaina.” Sylvanas murmured quietly as her ears shifted into a position that made her look even more despondent if that were even possible. “I…” She trailed off, an almost pained expression crossing features that had scarcely aged in all their years together. 

Jaina shook her head and moved towards where the other woman sat on their sofa, kneeling in front of her so that she could reach up and cradle the sides of her face, drawing it down towards herself so she could press the softest of kisses to her lips. “I miss them, too.” The mage whispered words that brought more comfort, even, than Sylvanas had expected them to. She nodded softly and wrapped her hands around Jaina’s wrists in response. 

“Do you ever miss anything else?” Sylvanas’s tone was soft with the faintest edge to it - one Jaina had come to know well by now. 

Jaina trailed her fingertips along Sylvanas’s jaw, then, and down along the sides of her neck towards her chest. “Feeling useful?” She asked in a whisper. “Feeling...feeling like I had some sort of say-so in the world and its workings? Of course. I’m no saint, Sylvanas.” 

“And what do you do, then? When you feel yourself wasting away - when you realize you’ve forgotten what the power felt like in your own hands?” 

“I remember that you need me.” Jaina kissed her again, then. It was warmer this time. It lingered. “And then I remember all the years it went against every grain and fiber of your being to love me the way that you did. Sometimes...when that isn’t enough, I find you. Wherever you are. Reading or writing or fletching. Then, when I find you, I can look into your eyes and know that I’m not the only one in this world who knows who we were and what we did. I can touch that same skin I have always touched and hear the same whispers I’ve always heard. And it’s enough.” 

Sylvanas felt a twinge of guilt, then. Before it could settle in too deeply, however, Jaina stood and pulled her up by her hand. She stroked over broad, toned shoulders and traced the laces that held the front of the other woman’s shirt partially closed - just beneath her collarbones. 

“I’m going to take you to bed.” Though her voice wasn’t particularly loud or commanding - Sylvanas lifted her eyes towards it, anyway - meeting Jaina’s steely gaze with her own. Like two storms threatening to collide. As it always had been. As it always would be. 

“I’ve always needed you.” Sylvanas finally said in response - not to Jaina’s statement that was currently hanging heavily between them, but to what she’d said before. 

“I know, Sylvanas.” Jaina replied, slipping her arms around Sylvanas’s waist and stroking softly at her lower back. “And I’ve needed you. I still do. Every day. But tonight - what I need is for you to come to bed with me. What I need is for you to get lost with me. To forget time and the passing of it for just a while. Let me take care of you.” 

Sylvanas faltered for a brief moment. She glanced down between them, but not all the way - before forcing her attention back to Jaina. Her knee had been acting up lately. There was worry in her eyes. In her demeanor. Jaina simply shook her head. 

“Let me take care of you.” She repeated - this time in a whisper that she pressed against the other woman’s cheek as her hand came up to cradle the opposite one. 

“You’ve done far too much of that, dalah’surfal.” Sylvanas turned her head slightly, then, as she gripped Jaina’s arms in her hands and gave them a faint squeeze. “Far too much.” 

“I may not be the Lord Admiral of Kul Tiras. I may not be the leader of the Kirin Tor. I may never again set foot on a battlefield...but I will be damned if I won’t take care of my wife when she’s hurting, Sylvanas Windrunner. I’ll be damned if I won’t hold her in my arms and remind her that there is no one more powerful in my life than her and the way I feel for her. That there never has been and never will be.” 

The faintest tremor had presented itself in those last murmured, passionate words. The faintest ripple of the power that had never stopped coursing through her veins came along with it. That, in and of itself, nearly stole what was left of Sylvanas’s breath away. “In this house, Sylvanas - with no one around - I am still all those things. And in this house - you are still a General. You are still a Queen. It matters little that our children have gone off for their learning and left you lonely. It matters little that you favor your knee on days when it rains. Nothing changes what we were. Or what you still are to me. And nothing in this world is going to make me stop caring for you after all that you’ve given to others...and to me. Not even you.” 

Sylvanas swallowed thickly past the emotion that was threatening to make the action impossible. “Of course I’ll go to bed with you.” She breathed as Jaina stroked slowly along her sides. “There’s no need to seduce me with magic. You seduced me decades ago.” 

“Oh?” Jaina asked quietly even as Sylvanas felt a faint tingle up the length of her spine that she hadn’t felt in years. “Humor me. I never get to use it anymore.” 

“You use it all the time.” Sylvanas whispered, bowing her head as Jaina guided it down and kissed over her brows so she would shut her eyes. 

“Not like I used to.” Jaina’s voice was strange, suddenly. Powerful. It held a faint echo, almost. “Not like this.” 

Sylvanas felt her knees go weak for a moment. She felt her entire being lurch physically. So violently that Jaina caught her in her arms as she gasped for her next breath and opened her eyes in a near-panic. That breath Sylvanas had fought to drag into her lungs seemed stuck there, suddenly. Unmoving in her chest. 

“Jaina.” The name came out without her thinking it. Without her even realizing it - as her eyes fell upon a room that was no longer familiar to her...yet more familiar than any other, somehow. As the smell of dampness met her nose and her feet shifted across cobbled stone. “What is this?”

“The Undercity.” 

Somehow, Sylvanas only just now realized Jaina was no longer holding her. That that voice had come from behind her. She just wasn’t prepared for the sight that met her eyes when she turned towards it. The sight of Jaina - of _her_ Jaina...in Kul Tiran blues and whites. Her hair braided and resting down along her shoulder - her gauntleted hand wrapping around a staff Sylvanas hadn’t seen in… “Lord Admiral.” She murmured with furrowed brows as her eyes widened. 

“Yes, Warchief.” Jaina responded with a faint smile playing at her lips. 

It only just occurred to Sylvanas to look down at herself - to take in the sight of armor that should have been too heavy for her too comfortably wear. To process the fact that there was no more ache in her knee...or anywhere else. She lifted her hands slowly, flexing her fingers within the heavy, reticulated gloves they were clad in. Then she lowered them. She looked around at her old bedchamber for a while - allowing her gaze to linger on places that would always hold ghosts of her past...of _their_ past. 

“What…Jaina...how..?”

The end of the mage’s staff met the stone beneath her feet as she bridged the distance between them. Somehow, that sound made it all the more real. “An illusion.” Jaina murmured as she looked into the glowing red of Sylvanas’s eyes - as she was almost trapped in that gaze. 

“Jaina this...this is no illusion.” Sylvanas narrowed her eyes slightly, more in confusion than anything else. 

“Oh, darling.” She reached out, then, and traced the line of Sylvanas’s jaw with her gloved fingertip, watching the shudder it drew from the other woman. “Do you hurt? Do you feel me?”

“No, no...I don’t…and yes. Yes, of course I can.” She glanced down at her knee and tilted her head into the touch. 

“Would you prefer another setting?” Jaina continued - her tone more gentle, now. “Dalaran, perhaps?” 

Sylvanas reached for her suddenly. She held her corseted waist in her hands so tightly had Jaina not expected it she might have winced. As it was, she just pressed closer - waiting for her lover’s answer. 

“You can do that?” Sylvanas asked, her eyes falling shut as Jaina’s palm found her cheek and her thumb stroked across it. 

“That would be much simpler than this, yes.” 

Sylvanas was quiet for a while. She ran the pointed tips of her glove along the laces that held the front of Jaina’s shirt closed. She breathed in scents she thought she never would again. Scents that Jaina remembered vividly, it seemed. Dried flowers. Old books. Damp stone. 

“Is this what I smelled like to you?” She asked quietly as her head came to rest against the cloak that covered Jaina’s shoulder. 

Jaina nodded faintly, threading her arm beneath Sylvanas’s tattered cloak to find the back of her neck beneath it. “I remember it well.” 

“I don’t want this.” Sylvanas whispered against Jaina’s neck after a while before she found the corner of her jaw with her lips. “What we have is enough. You are enough.” 

Jaina pulled Sylvanas closer, then. Into a tighter embrace. “So are you, Sylvanas. Exactly as you are.” 

The magic faded gradually. There was no lurch, this time. It was soft and slow and gentle and then they were in their bedroom. Their bedroom in their spire in Quel’Thalas where it was warm and dry and just right. 

“I’d nearly forgotten.” Sylvanas said softly as Jaina guided her towards their bed.

“Forgotten what?” Jaina asked in response, helping Sylvanas move to lay back on the bed. 

“So many things.” Sylvanas didn’t have a better response than that. All she knew was she found the sight of her wife as comforting as she found the feeling of her skin against her own as she disrobed them both slowly. Carefully, Sylvanas reached up to stroke through white strands of hair while, with her free hand, she traced the shell of Jaina’s ear. “I’d nearly forgotten how lucky I am.” 

Jaina shook her head. “Don’t do that.” She whispered, pursing her lips as Sylvanas tried to distract her with a gentle bite to the crook of her neck. “Don’t feel that guilt. Don’t let it have you.” 

“I won’t.” Sylvanas very nearly husked, now, as she spoke against Jaina’s neck and gave her waist a squeeze with her thighs. “I would much rather my wife have me.” 

Before she could even think to continue speaking, Jaina’s hips had rolled down against her own in a way that was both sinful and distracting and she fell silent. As it turned out, getting lost was exactly what they both needed. Jaina - in the sounds Sylvanas made as she drew one of her thighs to the side to give herself room. Sylvanas - in the feeling of Jaina’s fingers parting her and then pressing into her slowly. 

The mage had her gripping the sheets before long. Had her digging her feet into the mattress beneath them as her breaths came in short, sharp pants and very physical sensation mixed with the intoxicating feeling of Jaina’s magic caressing her skin. Tingling along her ribs and drawing her nipples to hard, sensitive peaks before their ache to be touched was soothed by the warmth of her very real mouth and the moans that came along with it. Then the teeth. Biting and tugging gently while her hand thrust between them. 

Sylvanas threw her head back when that magic instead found her clit. When it wove circles around it amidst the almost rough thrusting of fingers below. The sight of her throat so delicately and erotically exposed proved too much for Jaina to ignore and she soon felt deep, trembling moans beneath her lips and tongue. It only made the sound of them that much sweeter. 

“Harder.” Sylvanas grated out from between clenched teeth, gripping at Jaina’s waist with her hands - bruising her pale skin with her fingertips as she tried to drag her closer. 

The next moan Jaina felt as she assaulted her wife’s neck came in response to her teeth digging into the skin of her neck - marking it mercilessly as she pulled one of Sylvanas’s hands away from herself and pinned it to the bed. “Be still, then.” She whispered between breaths, drawing her knee up so that it pressed down against Sylvanas’s thigh to hold it there. 

Deep, almost animalistic sounds quickly became keening whimpers then...whimpers that no magic could ever compare to for Jaina. This was power. The way Sylvanas looked as she writhed and bucked beneath her and forgot about anything that wasn’t her. Even words. All of them except her name. Her name which came out in stuttering, stilted gasps leading up to an orgasm so powerful it shook them both and tore a harsh cry from Sylvanas’s throat. 

The next time Sylvanas managed to open her eyes, Jaina was moving over her with more grace than should have been allowed - straddling her face as she looked down at her and Sylvanas’s eyes nearly rolled shut at the sight. 

With what little self-awareness Sylvanas had left, she reached up to support Jaina’s ass with a firm grip of her hands and leaned up into her almost hungrily. Jaina nearly fell into the headboard in response to Sylvanas’s eagerness. As it was, she had little control over the way she rocked her hips and worked her clit against the velvet of her wife’s tongue. Sylvanas didn’t even let her pull away when it became to much like she usually did. She dragged her back down against her own face forcefully each time until Jaina gave up trying and reached down to grab a fistful of the other woman’s hair. 

Sylvanas didn’t even let her move away after she came. She showed mercy, though. Patience. She coaxed Jaina to stay with loving bites to her inner thighs and warm, quick breaths against the wetness between them. Until, finally, Jaina’s thighs relaxed and she could have what she wanted once again. Just a few more moments of Jaina’s utterly unhinged pleasure manifesting in sharp tugs at her hair and the uncontrollable tensing of her body. 

Neither woman cared about the mess they’d made that night when all was said and done. They cared much more for the exhaustion they had earned and the comfort of each other’s arms while they came down from the high they’d given to one another. It was rare anymore that they could let go like this and they both wore a tired smile as Sylvanas rested her head against Jaina’s chest and the mage traced patterns against her shoulder with her fingertips. 

“Do you remember our first time?” Jaina asked idly after a long span of familiar, comfortable silence. 

Sylvanas slipped an arm over the other woman’s stomach, then, and pulled her just a little closer. “It wasn’t my best work.” 

Jaina smiled fondly down at her. “That didn’t and doesn’t matter to me.” Jaina whispered into Sylvanas’s hair before kissing the top of her head. “It wasn’t about the sex. It was the fact that you let go with me for the first time. For the very first time you weren’t this untouchable monument to your people...this military figurehead whom I could never hope to begin to be...enough for. That was the first time you were just Sylvanas Windrunner.” 

They’d never really talked about it. Jaina had never really told her how she’d felt about that day. The day she fell apart for the first time in...in her entire life. “Do you ever regret it?” Sylvanas finally asked. “Devoting...everything to me. Everything. You were so young…” 

“I was.” Jaina shifted to get more comfortable beneath Sylvanas, then, and reached for the sheets they’d pushed out of their way to draw them up around her wife’s waist. “Young and fortunate. Fortunate to have had you in my life. To have been there for you. To have known what it feels like to have you be there for me in return.” 

“I don’t know that you were the fortunate one, Jaina.” Sylvanas whispered even as sleep threatened to take her. It had been a long couple of weeks with all their children home on their little joint holiday and this night had been a long time coming. 

“We both were, I think. I had to be strong long before I met you. After, though...oh, god, after. Having you to love...to focus on from time to time...I don’t know what I would have done or who I would have been without that.” 

Sylvanas didn’t need to say that she felt the same. They both knew how hard Jaina had worked to keep her whole...or some semblance of it, at least. Even if Jaina refused to speak the words aloud. 

Movement downstairs a short while later caused Sylvanas to stir and her ears to lift so she could better hear what was going on - so close had she been to sleep. Then came the familiar sound of light feet taking the stairs two at a time. “Mm-mm. Come back here.” Jaina breathed, tugging Sylvanas back down and draping a leg across her so she’d stay put. 

“Don’t mind me!” Danestra was a blur of black hair and blue leathers as she darted past their bedroom door to her own rooms. 

“Where are you off to, Captain?” Sylvanas called out groggily to their youngest as she scrambled around in her bedroom. 

“Forgot something!” Danestra shouted down the hallway in response. 

Another blur past the door a moment later, then the sound of leather boots skidding to a halt only to back-pedal slowly. 

Sylvanas couldn’t help but smile as their daughter poked her head into their room - seemingly unbothered by the sight of them tangled together beneath the sheets. “My unit has border patrol this month. I’ll write you every chance I get.” 

Sylvanas crinkled her nose and Jaina smiled softly in response. “Will you?” Sylvanas asked almost mischievously. “Or will you get tented up with one of your rangers and forget us again?” 

Danestra’s expression went from offended to coy in a matter of seconds. “That depends upon whether or not we run short of supplies this time around.” 

“My darling girl, you requisition the supplies.” Sylvanas chided gently as Jaina chuckled and shook her head. 

“You aren’t wrong. I need to be heading out. You two don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” 

“Stay safe, please, Dan.” Jaina called out after her, lifting her head in an attempt to better listen for a response. 

“Maybe! We’ll see! Don’t wait up!” 

“She’s terrible.” Sylvanas complained quietly as she turned onto her side to curl further against Jaina. 

“I think it’s hereditary.” Jaina’s response didn’t pack quite the punch it might have if the mage weren’t threading her fingers gently through her wife’s hair when she spoke. 

“That was rude, Jaina.” Sylvanas was smiling, though. An easy, beautiful smile that Jaina cherished more than almost anything else in the world. 

“We can talk about how rude I am tomorrow after breakfast. You’re always in a good mood after you eat.” Jaina realized too late the implications of her words. Far too late. Soon, she was rolling her eyes at the snort that devolved into laughter that Sylvanas tried and failed to hide against her chest. 

“Sylvanas, _please_.”

"[Untitled]"  
AFI

[Spoken]  
We held hands on the last night on earth.  
Our mouths filled with dust, we kissed in the fields and under trees,  
screaming like dogs, bleeding dark into the leaves.  
It was empty on the edge of town but we knew everyone floated  
along the bottom of the river.  
So we walked through the waste where the road curved into the sea  
and the shattered seasons lay,  
and the bitter smell of burning was on you like a disease.  
In our cancer of passion you said, "Death is a midnight runner."  
The sky had come crashing down like the news of an intimate suicide.  
We picked up the shards and formed them into shapes  
of stars that wore like an antique wedding dress.  
The echoes of the past broke the hearts of the unborn  
as the ferris wheel silently slowed to a stop.  
The few insects skittered away in hopes of a better pastime.  
I kissed you at the apex of the maelstrom and asked  
if you would accompany me in a quick fall,  
but you made me realize that my ticket wasn't good for two.  
I rode alone.  
You said, "The cinders are falling like snow."  
There is poetry in despair, and we sang with unrivaled beauty,  
bitter elegies of savagery and eloquence.  
Of blue and grey.  
Strange, we ran down desperate streets and carved our names in the flesh of the city.  
The sun was stagnated somewhere beyond the rim of the horizon  
and the darkness is a mystery of curves and lines.  
Still, we lay under the emptiness and drifted slowly outward,  
and somewhere in the wilderness we found salvation scratched  
into the earth like a message.  



End file.
